


A Sister's Joy

by Only_Jonsa



Series: My Brother, My Alpha, My King [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_Jonsa/pseuds/Only_Jonsa
Summary: A last drabble. This one is from Rickon's POV.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: My Brother, My Alpha, My King [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128032
Comments: 60
Kudos: 116





	1. The Feast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/gifts), [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts), [riahchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahchan/gifts).



> If you look back you might notice that there was a pattern to this series of drabbles, with each member of the Stark family having a POV in order of age, which leaves Rickon to finish the tale. I took a lot of inspiration from 'Rickon's Tales' by 'vivilove'. If you haven't read these three gorgeous fics, go and read them now! They are infinitely superior and some of the sweetest Jonsa I believe you will find on AO3. This is dedicated to both her and to the other amazing and infinitely superior fic writer, 'Amymel86', for helping me to continue this work despite the critics. It is also gifted to the lovely 'riahchan' for coming to my defence in the comments section.

Rickon couldn’t wait for the dinner to be over. The cooks had served everyone the best meats and bread, but he could be eating hay for all he cared. He wanted to get to the good part of the feast, where Jon would tell everyone about the dragons. 

He desperately wanted to hear the tale from his own lips. It wasn’t the same, hearing bits of Bran’s strange dreams or later, after the raven came, hearing Robb read the story by the hearth. There was no mention of fire and blood or anything. He sincerely hoped Jon would tell the story better.

Rickon assured himself that Jon’s account would be far more thrilling, having seen three fully grown dragons with his own eyes and the woman who claimed to be their mother. It was Jon who had been there, trying to help her win a crown from a fire-mad King, only she refused to listen to him and ended up fire-mad herself.

Jon would surely know and share all the details Rickon yearned for. He would be able to confirm the whispers that the silver haired Targaryen got her dragons to turn King Stannis and his witch into ashes along with the Red Keep, and how she couldn’t be trusted to rule the seven kingdoms, so had to die instead.

Most of all, Rickon wanted to know how Jon did it.

He didn’t look like someone who could slay a dragon queen when he glanced over at the main table now, not with him constantly kissing Sansa’s knuckles and touching her belly. He looked more like a puppy than a wolf when he did that, and it was even worse when he talked to the bump there as if it might one day talk back.

It was still strange to see the two of them that way and to remember that Sansa was Jon’s mate and would soon be his wife. He imagined having to marry Arya just because some marks appeared on his body and felt like throwing up his meat and bread at once. Jon didn’t look sick though, and he supposed it was different for them now that he wasn’t their brother.

Rickon had missed Jon a lot when he went South. They all did. Everyone was in such a terrible mood all the time and it felt like nothing would be good again until he came back. He wondered if he should miss his brother still, now that he came back a cousin instead, but told himself the name cousin or brother didn’t really matter. Jon was still Jon and he was back home in the North where he belonged.

His eldest sister had explained to him that a pack never does well when their alpha goes away, and so Rickon told her that he was happy theirs wouldn’t have to do that ever again. He thought Sansa looked even more glad than him when he said it.

When his father was alpha and went south everything was terrible as well and it was all the worse when only his bones returned. People said Ned Stark was with the old gods now, which made Rickon jealous for the one they took away and relieved for the one the gods allowed them to keep.

Rickon felt a strange sinking sadness whenever he thought much about his father, especially now that the image of him had begun to fade he couldn’t quite remember the sound of his voice anymore. Robb said he wouldn’t have to forget though, because Jon sounded and looked just like him, even though their father was only ever really his uncle.

Rickon wasn’t entirely sure he understood how a man went from a father to an uncle, or a brother to a cousin. He wondered if he might change too one day. He thought he might like to go from a man to a wolf so he could run free in the woods and not have to listen to boring maesters telling him about the eight different kingdoms, and the new Kings and Queens who were ruling there now.

“My Lords and Ladies,” Robb announced. “I am sorry to interrupt your feasting and drinking, but I know that you will be as eager as I am to hear from our alpha and King once more. If the gods had allowed it, my father would be standing here in my stead, handing over the mantle to Jon. But, despite the losses and grief we have suffered, the North has endured. We are still a pack. The south was unable to break us apart or take another alpha from us. I give him to you now, The King in the North!”

Everyone chanted King in the North, their voices vibrating loudly against the walls of Winterfell. Despite the fervour of the crowd, they quietened down quickly after shouting their declarations, clearly as eager as Rickon to hear what Jon had to say. Jon looked less than eager about speaking to them all, but Sansa seemed to coax him into standing with her eyes alone.

“My Lords, my Ladies, my fellow Northmen and women. I am grateful for the trust you have shown by allowing me to lead as your alpha. 

I want to thank all of you who have fought alongside me in the South, first against the Lannisters and then against the Baratheons and Targaryens. You are a credit to your people and to the North.

I want to thank those of you who lent me your brave soldiers and entrusted me to bring them back to you. I want to thank every single soldier whom I sadly could not return with, those who gave their lives to free us of the tyrants who once held us in the palm of their hands, and to their families whose grief we now share.

I know that despite our losses, and the sadness those bring to us, you will join me in rejoicing over our newfound independence. It was a hard-won freedom that is now enjoyed in all eight corners of the new kingdoms, where I am sure all of their own people are also celebrating in whatever manner seems fit to them.

I am grateful to the old gods for making me one of you, and not a Targaryen like the ones who first bound the kingdoms together under the threat of dragon-fire, and whose rule we have only just managed to rid ourselves of.

I am grateful to our previous alpha, Ned Stark, for keeping me safe and teaching me how to be a Northman. I am grateful to his son, Robb Stark, for standing by me as my beta, and his daughter Sansa Stark, for agreeing to be my wife and for giving me everything I ever wished for, and never believed I would have.

I am grateful to my family for loving and accepting me still, for welcoming me as a cousin just as they once did a brother.

To you all, I give thanks for the role I take on with great pride and yet the deepest humility. I shall endeavour to lead you carefully and rule over you justly. I know that I will be able to do that with my beta agreeing to serve as my hand and with my omega as the Queen I need by my side. Tomorrow we shall feast again, only we will celebrate a wedding instead, and our new Queen in the North.”

The people echoed, “The Queen in the North” with just as much enthusiasm as they had before, some clapping their cups against the tables, causing their drinks to spill over though no one seemed to mind. Rickon thought that was a little unfair, seeing as he always got into trouble for banging or spilling things. His sister’s joy, when he looked over in her direction, made him happy though, that they were making a loud mess over her. She really would make a good queen.

To Rickon’s horror, Jon sat down after that and kissed Sansa on the lips. He wondered what Jon could be thinking. All he did was say thank you. There was no retelling of the horrors in the south. He didn’t even tell anyone how the Dragon Queen or her largest dragon died, whether he used a sword or a dagger, or how he managed to banish the other two to a faraway land.

Rickon saw his mother stand to speak. He sighed his relief, certain that his mother, who had always been Jon’s greatest critic, would tell him he ought to stand back up and tell them more about what happened in the south. He normally felt bad when his mother told Jon off, but he felt like he deserved it a little now.

“My Lords and Ladies, my King and future Queen. My husband is not here to pass on his wisdom, as I know he would have wanted, nor will he be here tomorrow to give Sansa away in the godswood,” she declared, her voice cracking a little like she might cry. Rickon was glad when she took a breath and didn’t, for he hated to see his mother’s tears.

“In his absence I have instructed some of our best smiths to craft a gift for our alpha and his omega as a wedding present,” his mother paused as some servants moved out of the crowds to present two crowns before Jon and Sansa. The crowns were nice, he supposed, but this wasn’t going the way Rickon really wanted or expected, just like the rest of the feast. His mother seemed to notice his sigh of disappointment, when he hadn’t even realised that he had made a sound, and gave him a quick, stern look before continuing.

“I know from my husband, the very great responsibility an alpha will bear, even without a crown upon his head and I know from personal experience that being an omega comes with its great joys, but that is not without struggle or sorrow. I also know that no matter what our kingdom will face in the future, no matter what challenges we face in the winters to come, that we have two people who love each other and their people, and who will serve us wisely and fairly. I am glad to be here this day and look forward to tomorrow when we will crown our King and Queen in the North,” she declared before sitting again.

There was lots of loud chanting again and Rickon knew that there would plenty of merriment to come, but not for him. Not when Robb sent him and Arya and Bran to bed shortly afterwards. Rickon sighed his disappointment yet again, knowing that the best part of the feast never came and that if it did come, it would likely be when he was tucked up in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please no criticism, whether you mean it to be constructive or not. This paltry offering of drabbles is not meant to be a literary masterpiece or highbrow fantasy fiction. I have absolutely no delusions of grandeur that need correcting over here. In fact, I have a very low opinion of my writing in general. This is just my way of adding to the Jonsa community and the very large number of fics I have, until now, devoured without giving back, because it felt like the right thing to do. If you are dissatisfied, disgruntled or disappointed, I can empathise (many fics make me feel this way too), but please keep it to yourself as I do, and go and read or write something more to your taste. Thanking you in advance.


	2. The Dance

He hadn’t slept well the night of the feast of independence, too disgruntled by all the things he was sure to have missed out on. The following day had been just as much of a disappointment, with Jon and Sansa much too busy with the wedding and the coronation for Rickon to sit them down and demand Jon tell him everything.

All he could do was allow himself to be pushed about my Robb, his mother, and occasionally even Arya. Rickon didn’t know when she became so sensible and hoped that, just because Jon gave her a sword and told her he would teach her to fight with it, she wouldn’t stop being fun altogether, especially now that Bran was sometimes strange and serious too. It was like everyone was in a hurry to grow up, only Rickon was not at all ready for that.

He stood where he was supposed to, however, and didn’t make a fuss or get into any mischief throughout the ceremony. He even cheered when they kissed under the heart tree. He did everything right but, now that the celebrations had finished, and he was tucked up in bed, he was determined not to have another sleepless night.

Rickon got out of bed, feeling the cold hit him like a wave of ice. He wrapped himself in the fur that lay on his bed and made his way down the halls to the room that had once been his mother and father’s, but his mother insisted Jon and Sansa would live in now.

As he approached the door, he was relieved to see it ajar and was just about to burst in and confront Jon, insisting that he tell him what happened when a hand reached out and grabbed him pulling him back into the shadows. He gasped with fright and was about to scream when another hand found his mouth. When he looked into the eyes of the person who had captured him, he was glad to see only Arya Stark grey ones staring back at him.

Arya released him with a demanding hiss to keep quiet. Rickon wondered if she was there for the same reason as him.

“Why are you here?” he whispered. 

“I wanted to talk to them, to tell them I was happy that they were happy and wasn’t angry anymore,” she whispered back.

“So why are you hiding instead?” he asked, keeping his voice as low as possible, so as not to be heard.

“Because Sansa is about to teach Jon to dance and that is something I have to see,” Arya replied, equally quiet, a large grin on her face as she said it.

He was about to argue that there was no way that Jon would dance and that there was no music anyway, when to his surprise he saw Jon straighten and pull their sister into his arms, listening carefully as she told him what to do.

Jon looked ridiculous at first, but Sansa was very kind not to laugh and seemed to be genuinely thrilled by his attempts. He loved his sister, but he wouldn’t dance for her, not even for one of her wonderful, beaming smiles. Rickon surmised that Jon must be feeling particularly magnanimous now that he was King.

He was about to tell Arya his reasoning when he noticed another figure approaching with what, at first, seemed like two heads. Rickon’s eyes adjusted to the fading light of the sconces in the hallway and realised it was Robb, creeping towards them with Bran on his back.

The two of them made their way stealthily along the corridor and stood next to him and Arya in the shadows, all four of them mesmerised by the inconceivable sight of Jon learning to dance and Sansa praising him for not stepping on her toes.

“What are you two doing here?” Arya asked, her voice a gentle murmur once again.

“Bran said he had a vision that he had to see for himself with his own two eyes, and now I understand why,” Robb replied, clearly amused and not nearly as quiet as him and Arya had been.

It was strangely exciting, all four of them creeping about and trying not to be noticed. It was like they were all children together again, intent on making mischief. It made him feel warm inside. Seeing Jon and Sansa smiling and laughing like they were was also young and free made him feel warmer still, even more so than the furs around his shoulders.

Jon suddenly topped twirling Sansa around, with his brows furrowed like he used to when he was worried or had something important to say but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say it.

“I never could have done it, you know, without the advice you gave me before I left,” Jon said, staring at Sansa like she was the most important person in the world.

“You were the one who stopped her, not me,” Sansa argued. Rickon realised they were talking about the dragon queen and found himself edging closer to finally find out how the last Targaryen died.

“Yes, but you were the one who told me how. You knew that she called the dragons her children but that a true mother would never use her children as a weapon or force them to do her bidding. You knew they were slaves to her will, just as her army were, and that they would long for liberation deep down, for a chance to fly away and be free.”

“I wasn’t right about all three of them,” Sansa interrupted. Rickon knew his sister did this sometimes, trying not to take too much credit or to let others feel less clever than she was, even though that was actually true of most people.

“You were right about two of them and they listened when I reached out to them with my mind. They listened even when she would not. They fought for their freedom just like the rest of us. Together they took on the one dragon who stayed loyal to her, the biggest one and a clear favourite. She died getting trying to stop their fight, certain she could not be burnt. Positive that a true dragon never could. But she turned to ash just like her enemies had, and the large dragon died alongside her at the hands of his brothers. I didn’t do anything. Not really. Just planted an idea, like a seed, just like you told me to.”

Sansa blushed at that, and kissed Jon on the lips. It was just a peck but one he returned that was not a peck at all, not in the slightest. Jon pulled back for air and, tilting his head upwards, added to the air above him, “Hopefully that satisfied all your curiosities and now that you know the true hero of this tale, I think it would be a good idea for my beta to send our little brothers and sister back to bed instead of encouraging them to spy on us, especially as it is our wedding night, and you will certainly not want to witness what is coming next.”

With a soft chuckle, Robb nudged Rickon and Arya away from the Lord’s chambers and led them back down the corridor with Bran on his back. Arya grumbled the whole way, moaning that it was Robb who gave them away, with the weird connection he shared with Jon as beta and with his unnecessarily loud whispering.

Bran smiled happily down at them all from on top of Robb’s back, like he was exactly where he wanted to be, and as if he somehow knew all of this would happen. When they passed their mother’s chamber, after she told them all off for being up so late, she took pity on Rickon and said she would stay a little while by his side, until he fell asleep.

It was as if his mother knew he hadn’t slept well the night before and as he felt her stroking his hair and humming softly, he knew he would not have the same problem this night.

His final thought before sleep quickly took him, was that he might not need to turn from a man into a wolf after all, for he already had his pack and as his father always said, the pack survives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know lots of you will be dissatisfied with the way I got rid of Daenerys, but I wrote it from the perspective of someone who grew up the child of a narcissist.
> 
> A narcissist's child is often used (google 'flying monkeys') and abused by them. The love they claim they have for you is inauthentic and conditional, based on your obedience and submission.
> 
> I wanted to and eventually freed myself. I felt it only right that I should give this narcissist's children the same opportunity.

**Author's Note:**

> Please no criticism, whether you mean it to be constructive or not. This paltry offering of drabbles is not meant to be a literary masterpiece or highbrow fantasy fiction. I have absolutely no delusions of grandeur that need correcting over here. In fact, I have a very low opinion of my writing in general. This is just my way of adding to the Jonsa community and the very large number of fics I have, until now, devoured without giving back, because it felt like the right thing to do. If you are dissatisfied, disgruntled or disappointed, I can empathise (many fics make me feel this way too), but please keep it to yourself as I do, and go and read or write something more to your taste. Thanking you in advance.


End file.
